


A Night Worth Celebrating

by ExaltedBrand



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Tender Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29365719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExaltedBrand/pseuds/ExaltedBrand
Summary: As Askr celebrates a very special occasion, Thrasir offers Líf a distraction from more troubled thoughts.
Relationships: Líf/Thrasir (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	A Night Worth Celebrating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Urby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urby/gifts).



> A (slightly early!) birthday gift for [Urby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urby/pseuds/Urby)! This fic stems from a prompt of theirs that was originally submitted for my upcoming [Promptathon](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdDMqhsid775xSnOurOlYPByIqbI9BgZ5R1S85SgCceSyxMXA/viewform), hence its 1,000-word length – but given the occasion, I couldn't help but get to it just a little ahead of time. (Consider this a preview, of sorts, for next month's content!)

In spite of his steady countenance, Thrasir could always tell when something was weighing on Líf’s mind. She’d learned to recognise it at a glance – in the little cracks of his composure, where flickers of emotion broke through and darkened his expression; and in his moments of quiet contemplation, drawn far away from the rest of the world—even Thrasir herself—and into some distant, unknowable place.

Today, he was more withdrawn than usual. Troubled by thoughts she knew he’d never voice, and distracted at every turn.

It was hardly unexpected for her – to see him like this, on this particular day. She’d never known the date’s significance in life; but in death, she knew it for all the wrong reasons. In Hel, it had affected him in much the same way—the way he grew silent and lonely, even as she was there to hold his hand—but here in Askr, it seemed more potent than usual.

It wasn’t hard to imagine why, of course. It was difficult enough to spend one’s birthday In Hel, so far removed from the comforts of family and friends that could only be found in life. It was another thing entirely to spend that birthday in a world that wasn’t one’s own – and to see, from up on the battlements, the castle grounds lit up in celebration for someone else entirely.

“Alfonse,” Thrasir said, tugging gently at his sleeve. “You needn’t torture yourself like this. It isn't fair.”

Líf, staring down towards the brightly dressed courtyard, offered no response. It was rare for him to answer her with silence – but today, she been conditioned to expect it.

“Perhaps you should talk with the queen,” she went on, taking care not to refer to her in more familiar terms. “She has a kind heart. If you were to make yourself known to her, then perhaps–“

“No.” Líf’s voice was less angry than tired. “This is to be a happy occasion for her. A celebration of her son’s life. I see no point in sullying it with a reminder of his death.”

Thrasir studied the festival in silence for a moment; looked up and down the battlements. Then, she tugged again.

“Let’s go somewhere else, at least. The evening air doesn’t agree with me.”

Líf looked at her at last, his red eyes wavering with concern. “Are you cold, Veronica?”

“I could be warmer.”

This time, her tug had an edge of insistence.

“Come on. If you would spend the evening in reflection, then we can at least do it from the comfort of our quarters.”

Líf stole one last glance at the lights down below – then his shoulders lost some of their tension, and he nodded.

“Yes,” he said at length. “Perhaps that would be best.”

* * *

It had been the excuse, really, that both of them had needed. And as Thrasir pushed Líf ever so gently down into their bed, letting his head rest against the pillows and straddling his hips, she saw his composure breaking in an altogether different kind of way.

“V-Veronica,” Líf grunted, his voice strained but his eyes bright with interest. “You… You needn’t…”

“Shh,” Thrasir whispered, placing a finger over his lips. “It’s okay, Alfonse. Let me do something for you tonight.”

In many ways, undeath had changed their bodies; had changed them into something inhuman, into creatures made only for war. But changed as they were, they hadn’t lost every part of themselves – nor had they lost the capacity to take joy in what remained.

As Thrasir lowered herself onto Líf, feeling him sink deep inside her, she couldn’t help but smile. When she was with him like this, she felt briefly alive again. Alive, even if only for a moment.

She moved slowly, savouring the feeling of his hands on her body. His eyes were open now; no longer staring into the distance, but rather looking into her own, sharing the warmth of her gaze. He moved freely, caressing every inch of her that he could reach, and she was glad to offer him whatever he wanted.

“Alfonse,” she whispered, leaning in close enough for their lips to brush. “You mean the world to me, you know. I say it far too rarely, but…”

He reached up, stroking her face and ever so gently brushing aside a strand of her hair.

“I know. I ought to say it more, too.”

She smiled, feeling her cheeks go warm – then sighed as he rolled her over, taking command of their intimacy. He was always reserved at first, as if cautious in approaching her boundaries; but with time, as she made her own desires known, his confidence would always quickly grow.

Thrasir wrapped her legs around his body, pulling him close as he pushed deeper still into her; and she drew circles on his chest with her fingernails, delighting in the softness of his strange, incorporeal skin. He grew more vigorous with time; and soon enough he was abandoning himself to the moment, working with all his strength and moaning softly into her ear. She matched him thrust for thrust, savouring the feeling of his body moving in and out of her own, and she bit down on her lip, stifling her cries so they wouldn’t reach untoward ears in the early evening hours.

“Aah…” she gasped. “A-Alfonse…”

She never wanted the feeling to end. But this was about him, not her.

She wrapped her arms around him as he tensed, pumping his hips as quickly as he could; then she pulled him closer still as, at last, he shuddered and groaned with release.

And as they settled into each other’s embrace, their energy all but spent, she heard him whisper to her.

“Veronica. Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” she whispered back, running her nails down his chest again. “Not for this. Never for this.”

Their lips met in a tender kiss, and she stroked at his cheek with the back of her hand.

"Happy birthday, Alfonse.”


End file.
